


The Last Inquisitor

by SassySnowperson



Series: Mara Jade Stories [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Gen, Inquisitor Mara Jade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28124124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassySnowperson/pseuds/SassySnowperson
Summary: If you asked, she didn't remember any past before the Empire found her. The only thing she knew was the hunt.She was an inquisitor. She was a relic. She had been born long after the Jedi passed. What good is a person who hunts Jedi, when there are no Jedi left to hunt?
Series: Mara Jade Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060385
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	The Last Inquisitor

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short story from a universe I've been bouncing back and forth with [rosepetalfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetalfall) \- I haven't really found a plot to the whole big universe I want to tell, but I have found some little short stories in there I've been proud of. My plan is to add to this periodically with short snippets from the universe. 
> 
> I have to admit, this story (and any others I wind up sharing), definitely fall into the category of "I wrote this for me, but you can read it too." Maybe it will bring you some joy, as well!

The Fourteenth Sister remembered gentle hands holding her. She remembered the sound of rushing water and pure green grass and pure, wide ocean. 

The first lesson she learned was how to keep these memories safe. That lesson was the one that let her survive all the rest. If you asked, she didn't remember any past before the Empire found her. The only thing she knew was the hunt. 

She was an inquisitor. She was a relic. She had been born long after the Jedi passed. What good is a person who hunts Jedi, when there are no Jedi left to hunt? 

Officially, her program had been disbanded. Unofficially, the Emperor and Lord Vader still had plenty of uses for a talented, loyal, Force-sensitive child. 

Not that the Fourteenth Sister was a child any longer. She was sixteen, and she had killed enough people that she wondered when she'd stop caring to count. The answer, so far, was nine, and not yet. 

Then Jedha burned. Alderaan exploded. The Empire's ultimate weapon was unleashed. And then destroyed, by an outer-rim farmboy. By a _Jedi_. Suddenly, the inquisitor's weren't quite so useless, anymore. She was called to Coruscant, to the Emperor's throne room. It was her and the Thirteenth Brother, alone in audience with the Emperor. 

"You will kill Luke Skywalker," his voice laid heavy on the both of them, the order-command that she suspected they would not be able to resist, even if they wanted to. "Do not let anyone stop you. Including Lord Vader." 

They bowed their head and murmured their affirmations. Inside, the Fourteenth Sister's blood pounded. 

_Useless. No need for inquisitors now. Obsolete._

Well now all those stuffy grey-wrapped officers and their condescending little smirks would see the true weight and might of the Imperial Inquisitorium. 

Next to her, she felt the Thirteenth Brother's pulse of pride and determination. And competition. Only one of them would get the kill. 

_It will be me_. 

She was seventeen (thirteen killed, and not yet), and she had yet to find Skywalker. 

_Patience._

She was eighteen (eighteen, not yet), and Lord Vader sliced off Luke's arm. 

_I would have killed him_. 

She was nineteen (twenty-one, not yet), and the Thirteenth Brother died. He was collateral damage, she later learned. He was on the ground, working to assassinate the leader of a local rebel cell, when the Empire decided to just burn the place from orbit. They did not evacuate him first. He was disposable. 

_I am the last._

She was the Last Inquisitor. Not that anyone would give her the title. The Emperor and Lord Vader alike had seemed to forget the order they had given her. There was no effort spent to chase him, no task force given to hunt him. 

Instead, she spent her days running to and fro throughout the Empire, doing odd jobs that required more specialized skills. Courier between confidential locations. Get a job working in an upscale kitchen so she had the chance to poison an unruly Moff (twenty-two, not yet). The usual.

She knew, deep and cold in her belly, that the Emperor and Vader were playing a different game. One they hadn't bothered to invite her into. She was a useful tool, nothing more. She was also disposable. They would not care if she died. 

She was twenty (twenty-four, not yet) and Luke Skywalker killed the Emperor, Vader, and the Second Death Star in one fell swoop. 

The Last Inquisitor shuddered, as the future spun out in front of her. The Empire was going to fracture into a dozen petty kingdoms, each scrambling to come out on top. She could find a likely Moff and swear fealty to him. Become a tool for someone else and secure her safety by helping them come out on top.

She was on Malastare, Moff Pandion was on the same planet. He was an opportunistic sort, he'd see the possibility in her. 

But no. She was the Last Inquisitor, she had no master but the Emperor. She would not trade him for another. 

She went to the port. She found an outgoing shuttle. She didn't care where it was going. Just—away. Away from anyone that would think to look for her. To use her. A little nudge to a likely pilot, and she had passage. Another, and he handed her his flightbag with an agreeable shrug. 

The Last Inquisitor went to the back of the shuttle and stripped off her formal black robes. She folded them carefully into a neat pile. She stood in her underwear and stared at the black square of her former attire, holding her lightsaber in her hand. It was a valuable weapon. 

She put it to the side for the moment, and turned to the flight bag. She rummaged until she found durable cargo pants and a tank top. She wiggled into them. The fit was off, but she belted the pants tightly and found a beat-up jacket to go over the top. 

Better. Good.

She considered the cylinder again. If she kept it, she was saying she might use it. And if she was going to use it, she was still the Last Inquisitor. She had no master left alive, no command to follow, except— 

_You will kill Luke Skywalker_. 

He'd never see it coming. He thought his enemies were dead. She could fight him, and end him, and fulfill the Emperor's last command. 

She carefully placed the lightsaber in the middle of the pile of clothes. Then she took the whole bundle, and jettisoned it out the airlock. 

Let Luke Skywalker meet his own bad end. She was done being someone else's forgotten pawn. 

She returned to the bag and found a blaster, and holstered it under her jacket. The weight felt strange, but she thought she could get used to it. 

She picked her way back up into the deck and slid into the co-pilot's chair. "Thanks," she said, trying out gratitude. Hadn't been much call for it, in the Empire. 

"Of course," he said agreeably. He was agreeable because Mara had _suggested_ he be, but it still felt nice, following the rules of common courtesy. 

"Where are we headed?" she asked, shifting a little as she tried to figure out how to sit so the blaster wouldn't dig into her ribs. 

"Nas Clamdar," the pilot said. "Run-down little port attached to one of the biggest factories in the sector. They do starship parts for more than half the ships out there. Thrusters, mostly. The port's pretty much just industrial shipping." He jerked a thumb behind himself, to the large tank his shuttle was hauling. 

She kept him talking for the rest of the journey about the lay of the land in Nas Clamdar, while smoothing away every curiosity he had in return. She really would need to be more careful about this, in the future. But she had already gotten in his head, might as well do a professional job of it. By the time they landed, he was relaxed, contented, and completely unable to describe anything about the passenger he had transported. 

She tucked her hands into the pockets of her oversized coat, and meandered through the streets of Nas Clamdar. The pilot hadn't been lying. It wasn't a particularly nice port. Still, there were little signs of community. A holo flashing out into the street, with a group of factory workers clustered around, commenting on some sort of sports match. The building next door with the stink of alcohol. The one next to it, that smelled like seared meat and allums. 

That was the door that drew her.

She remembered her time spent waiting for the right Moff to enter the restaurant, so she could poison him quietly. It had been one of her favorite assignments at the time. It had taken weeks for her target to come in, so she kept showing up, working her shifts, and getting lost in the clang and bustle of a well-run kitchen. The workers there had known her as Unare Jade, and her hard work and lack of complaint had earned their respect. It was a good memory. 

She shuffled around to the back of the building, finding the back door that opened out onto the street, steam billowing out of it. She poked her head in. 

A lanky, long-faced Poldt in a stained white coat glared at her. "Out!" 

"Need help?" she called. "Bet you five credits I can chop faster than your current prep chef." 

"Girl, do I look like I have a prep chef?" He gestured around. 

"Easy win for me, then." 

He gave her a look, then snorted. "Okay. Five credits, you work for an hour, if I like you, we work something out." 

She nodded her agreement, stepping fully into the steam of the kitchen and shucking off her jacket, draping it over the top of the open door. The Poldt clicked his long tongue in disagreement with her blaster, but instead of telling her to take it off, just shifted his apron to show that he was carrying too. She nodded agreeably. Even footing. 

"You got a name, girl?" the chef asked. 

The Fourteenth Sister. The Last Inquisitor. 

"Jade," she said.

She remembered those memories she held safe. Kind hands, holding her. Rushing water, deep still lakes. A woman's voice, saying, "Mara." 

"Mara Jade."

The chef clicked again. "Alright then, Jade. Let's get to work." 

**Author's Note:**

> So Mara Jade and the Thrawn Trilogy were stories I read at that fundamental age of coming out of elementary school/starting Jr. High. It was a story that stuck with me, and filled with characters that stuck with me. Now, I haven't read it anytime recently, but I wanted to take sort of the "spirit" of what I remembered there, and shove it into the universe I've spent more time playing around in, recently! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed too. If this is something you want more in, I suggest subscribing to the series, rather than the story. I plan on posting any additional things as separate stories, rather than separate chapters. 
> 
> Want to say hi? You can find me [on Tumblr,](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sassysnowperson) or, as always, leave a comment below :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] The Last Inquisitor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419510) by [minnapods (minnabird)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnabird/pseuds/minnapods)




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